


For All The Gods To Hear

by AeonDelirium



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: AGOT era, ASoIaF Kink Meme, Dirty Talk, Jon Snow knows some things, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:17:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeonDelirium/pseuds/AeonDelirium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon attempts to fulfill one of Theon's fantasies. if only because he just can't resist a challenge.</p>
<p>Written for the asoiaf kinkmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For All The Gods To Hear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neliore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neliore/gifts).



> Look at me, making Theon happy for once! Jon wasn't the only one who needed a bit of a challenge.

_Bang._ Their practice swords clanged together, the blunt metal reverberating with the impact.  
 _Ring._ Jon took half a step back, struggling for a moment to maintain his balance. Theon gave a triumphant howl, charging forward with his sword raised high above his head – and went to the ground with a breathless grunt when Jon hit him squarely in the chest.  
It took a good long while for him to comprehend what had happened, lying on his back like a beetle with his arms and legs outstretched, and it took even longer for Jon to stop laughing, gasping for air and dropping his sword to the ground to hold his aching belly.  
  
In the end he offered his hand to Theon. “Come now, Lord Greyjoy, it’s almost time for supper, and I’m sure you’ll want a change of clothes first.”  
Theon gripped the hand firmly, and gave a hearty yank, sending Jon tumbling to the ground beside him. They wrestled in the dirt as the last of the sunlight filtered through the branches, painting the godswood green and gold. Before long, laughter turned into panting and wrestling into … wrestling of a different nature.  
“Gods,” Jon said, his breath hot against Theon’s lips. A sheet of parchment could barely have fit between them. “I’ll leave my door unlocked for you tonight.”  
Theon smiled, biting his lips like a hungry man presented with a side of beef. Jon was heavy, but not too heavy, pressing him into the ground until he _just_ couldn’t move.  
“And then what?”  
Jon frowned, his lips parting for a small chuckle before he ran his tongue over them nervously, and Theon almost lifted his head to kiss him. But then he was too curious for his reply, his heart beating a little faster as he imagined all the things he might say, the things they might do ...  
“Well … you know what.”  
Theon nodded, and Jon’s dark curls spilled through his fingers as he buried a hand in his hair, the heat between their bodies bringing his bones to their melting point.  
“Tell me anyway,” he said breathlessly, “tell me what you’re going to do to me.” There came the throbbing again, the sensation between his legs almost painful just thinking about it, pure, honourable Jon Snow saying filthy things to him as he made him his, and his hands tightened in his hair as he gasped, “ _Please_ …”  
And then suddenly, Jon’s weight was gone, and Theon was left cold and befuddled on the ground.  
“This is the godswood,” Jon said as he stood. “Not some whorehouse.” He sounded so much like his father Theon had to blink several times to assure himself he had not been grinding against the Lord of Winterfell a moment ago.  
Before he could even react Jon was off on his way towards the courtyard, muttering something about needing a bath.

The hour of the wolf had come and passed and Theon dozed off into a frustrated slumber when the knock came. His eyes opened to darkness, the heart thumping in his chest so loud his nightly visitor must surely have heard. Was it news from Pyke? His father? Had they finally come from him? Was it Ned Stark, carrying his greatsword Ice? Had he come for his head?  
  
By the time he had disentangled himself from his furs and grabbed a shirt so to at least not greet his fate entirely naked, the door opened with a mournful creak. Theon froze, half-dressed, his eyes glued to the pale face that emerged from the shadows of the corridor.  
“I wouldn’t bother putting those on,” Jon said with a nod towards Theon’s hands, which were clutching a pair of breeches.  
  
Relief washed over him in a blissful wave, and for a moment he smiled, before he remembered the circumstances under which they had parted earlier that evening.  
“What do you want?” he said coolly, doing his best to will the corners of his mouth into submission. He stood with one leg inside his breeches, still contemplating his next move when Jon stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind him, and replied,  
“I want to fuck you.”  
  
Now Theon could not help but laugh, laugh like Jon had laughed earlier, when he had thrown him to the ground. A little green lands boy might beat him at swordplay and riding, but he was no match for an Iron Islander’s dirty mouth.  
There was no denying that he _wanted_ it, and no denying the many nights ( _and_ days, especially when Maester Luwin made them sit through one of his boring lessons) he had spent thinking about it, wishing Jon Snow would one day overcome his frosty Northern blood and just …  
“I … want to fuck you … until you can’t take it anymore.”  
The bed creaked when Theon fell back onto the furs, having lost his balance with one leg caught in his smallclothes. He shook with laughter, unable to stop himself even as Jon’s expression changed from uncomfortable to outright hurt, his fingers curling into helpless fists. By the time it changed to a look of iron determination, Theon’s eyes were so clouded with tears he could barely see.  
He yelped with surprise when Jon flung himself down on top of him, seemingly out of nowhere. A final giggle slipped from his lips when the other man’s breath tickled his throat.  
  
Jon hesitated for a moment, on the brink of saying something but not quite able to bring himself to. His pale complexion gradually changed to crimson, until even his ears were glowing a fierce red.  
“I … I want to fuck you,” he said again to buy some time, staring at Theon’s throat to escape the mocking spark in his eyes. “… with my cock.”  
He frowned when the other man once more convulsed with laughter, almost throwing him off as his chest heaved.  
“With your – _cock,_ ” he managed, shaking and gasping for breath as Jon’s face grew even redder. Of course, this was not quite what he had had in mind, but in times where a good laugh was as rare and hard to come by as a good fucking, beggars could not be choosers. “You know nothing, Jon Snow.”  
Jon made a frustrated sound, pressing him deeper into the furs. “Shut up,” he said, his voice not nearly as commanding as he would have liked, his fingers grabbing Theon’s collar. “Shut up! Or I’ll make you come till you’ve no breath left for laughing.”

Theon stilled at that, blinking away a few tears as he gazed up at him with sudden curiosity, but Jon did not seem to notice, too consumed by his anger and hurt pride to pay attention.  
“I’m going to make you moan so loud,” he announced through gritted teeth, pushing Theon’s arms up above his head to slide off the shirt he had just put on a moment ago, “you’ll wake the entire castle. I’m going to make sure everyone knows you’re mine.” Theon offered no resistance, sprawled out beneath him in silent wonder as his breathing once more grew laboured.  
“We’ll see who’s laughing on the hunt tomorrow, when you’re too bloody sore to sit in the saddle.” Jon began to shrug out of his own clothes, still fuming while his hands fumbled with his laces. “And they’ll all know it’s because you just love my cock up your arse.”  
  
He looked up startled when Theon moaned, and found him to be half-hard already, his pupils dilated, eyes glazed over with lust.  
“Gods,” he said, the word a breathy sigh as he arched his back off the bed, writhing in delicious agony. His hands reached out for Jon, inviting him back into his arms, and then he spread his legs … “I do.”  
A wave of warmth spread through Jon at the sight and the sound, forming a ball of heat below his navel before he could help it. His anger blown away in an instant, his heart began to race at the prospect of the things to come.  
“As do I.” His fingers still trembled when they resumed their work on his laces, albeit for a different reason. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.  
It wasn’t as though he didn’t _have_ these thoughts, his mind as full of dirty words and ideas as that of any other boy his age. But to say them out loud … that was another matter entirely.  
Then he looked at Theon again, the slight sheen of sweat on his chest, the way his legs were parted, and he could almost feel how they would fit perfectly around him as they always did.  
“You’ve no idea how good your hole feels when you’re clenched tight around me.”  
  
The kiss that followed was hot and wet, two bodies nearly steaming in the chill as four hands all but clawed at them, biting and sucking and teasing like Jon had never known before. His mind blanked for a moment, reeling, too overcome by his own arousal for any conscious thought. Beneath him Theon shivered, an ecstatic, sudden, impatient shiver that almost made him forget his mission altogether and simply go ahead, a moment of fumbling and a few blissful minutes of slow, deep fucking, the way they had always done it. But not tonight. Tonight he had to practice restraint.  
“You’re hard just thinking about it,” he managed between two gasps, coaxing a whimper from the other man as he pressed their bodies together, the length of him hard against his stomach.  
Theon laughed again at that, a breathless little laugh, but not without a hint of defeat.  
“You’re one to talk,” he replied, lifting his hips in a way that made Jon see stars. “Though I can’t deny I like your cock pressed against me like that.”  
Jon buried his face in the crook of his neck so he would not see him flush at the words.  
“You better do,” he said, brushing his lips across salty skin. “Because it’s all going inside of you.” He could almost _taste_ the quickening heartbeat when he pressed a kiss to Theon’s throat. “Every last throbbing inch of it.”

And then Theon’s legs fit around him _just_ the way he’d imagined it, and his hands were on his back, urging him closer with the impossible strength of the truly desperate.  
“Gods,” Theon said again, and another moan slipped out after the word.  
“Gods,” Jon repeated, finally raising his head to look him in the eyes with mixed surprise and amusement. “You’re just _aching_ to be filled.”  
  
Theon sucked on his fingers without hesitation or question when he put them in his mouth, just far enough he might have retched, but didn’t.  
“You’d think you were fostered at some Southern whorehouse instead of Winterfell,” he said softly, smirking at the mixture of protest and arousal his words seemed to incite, and he pulled his fingers free with a soft wet sound that sent a shiver down his back.  
“Go on then, prove me wrong.”  
Theon was reduced to a trembling, gasping tangle of quivering flesh when the slickened fingers pressed against his entrance, all but arching up off the bed to meet them. But Jon was not prepared to let him off easy.  
“Tell me you don’t want my cock between your cheeks,” he continued, delighted by the hoarse sounds of pleasure the image drew from Theon’s throat.  
“Tell me you don’t need a good, hard fucking. Tell me that wasn’t what you wanted in the godswood earlier.”  
While Theon was past all holding back, squirming and gasping with his legs spread and his hips lifted, the living, breathing embodiment of wantonness, Jon began to feel it himself, his own words taking their effect on him. He had to bite his lips for a moment before he covered Theon’s body with his own, his hand still teasing him as the words poured from his mouth in a stream of pure, unfiltered lust.  
“Tell me you didn’t want me to take you there, with the dirt and the sweat still on us. Tell me you didn’t want me to push you up against the heart tree and fuck you from behind. Tell me – ”  
“Jon,” Theon said, panting against his skin, and then again more urgently, “Jon, please, I’m –”, but Jon would have none of it, no protests and no begging, pressing wet kisses to his throat and chest between words.  
“Tell me you didn’t want me to make you scream loud enough for all the gods to hear, with my cock up your arse. Tell me you don’t like it when I have my way with you.”  
“Jon,” Theon breathed against his lips, and Jon stole another kiss, kissing away whatever complaints he might have wanted to make; he did not want to hear them.  
“Tell me you don’t love it when I hit that weak spot inside you,” he said heatedly, “again, and again, and –”  
He paused when Theon stilled beneath him with a gasp, barely giving him enough time to make a puzzled face before he felt the wetness against his chest, and the other man shuddered, eyes rolling back in his head as he spent himself in waves of pleasure.  
  
A moment passed in silence when he was done, and he fixed his guilty gaze on Jon’s chest, avoiding his eyes.  
“Sorry,” he muttered finally, defeated. Jon could barely suppress a triumphant grin when he saw the redness that spread across his face, and he realised he had made _Theon Greyjoy blush._  
“But, if you give me a moment … we can still do all those things.”  
“I should hope so,” Jon said, propping himself up beside him and pulling Theon into his arms. “I remember promising I’d make you moan loud enough to wake all of Winterfell.”


End file.
